they did not know she had millions, neither did she. just collected one item at a time, cared fully for         each one of them.                                                                                                         catalogued in eternally.



words affect us deeply.   voices  come and go.                                           while the worlds spins with  people’s chaos and confusion.       yet.           above the noise of the day     they show me birds and insects          did you know they cross their fragile legs?





did you find a pin there, did you pick it up and stick it?   did you stay safe, wrap the shawl around and hold    it   close?        did you see my life breaking, bring me pins for mending? …



stick in be safe , despite the pain and raddled cotton threads.   to hold my life, hold the rusty hinges, prepare the coats of varnish again     .                    remember your mother’s pins, my friend.

be well in your mending.



she asked what it is all about. just everyday things to look at, nothing to buy, like in a museum with strings and labels.

sbm.